


Appreciating Your Pals

by BotchedExperiment



Category: Wilde Life (Webcomic)
Genre: Crying, Fever, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, oscar is cared about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: For once, his illness wasn't something weird and supernatural. Oscar could deal with the flu.





	Appreciating Your Pals

**Author's Note:**

> this is me, sneaking into each fandom one by one and leaving sickfics in my wake. I'm like santa claus but all year round, and a fanfic author, and with stuff no one asked for...
> 
> Anyway, i've been wanting to write a fic for this comic for a couple years now and i finally worked up the motivation to do it. Still got the NaNo momentum going.
> 
> ENJOY!

Oscar stared at the numbers with a tired frown.

"Alright, well... That's not great. Could be worse?"

He watched Sylvia look over his shoulder in the bathroom mirror. His own sorry appearance wasn't particularly something he wanted to see right now. Ugh.

This was his first time getting sick since he moved to Podunk, Oklahoma. Well, since Lorelei, and he was't sure "Magically-Induced Curse Hangover" counted as being sick. Oscar was almost glad to be ill without having to worry about it being some weird Podunk thing.

Almost.

"Oh, Oscar..." she said as she got her own look at the thermometer. She looked at his reflection worriedly, mouth in a thin line. "I hope you feel better tomorrow."

"Yeah," Oscar agreed. "Me too."

Tomorrow didn't get a chance to come before he woke up.

Oscar couldn't figure out what was going on. The clock told him it was morning, but only technically. It was still pitch black outside, and in his room. Pulling his blanket to his shoulders, Oscar realized why he was awake.

It was freezing.

His teeth chattered as he struggled to get warm. When that didn't work, Oscar finally resorted to actually getting out of bed and finding a shirt to put on. Something long-sleeved and warm… a sweatshirt? Sure, that would work.

Every one of his muscles complained and ached at the movement, and the soft fabric was uncomfortable on his unusually sensitive skin. He gave a pitiful whine, and another when he didn't feel any warmer.

It was probably the fever, then. He wasn't sure how warm he was, and he still felt like he was freezing. He should do the adult thing and go take some fever reducer, to help him get back to sleep if anything.

Some water probably wouldn't hurt, either. His throat was beginning to feel scratchy, and just when Oscar thought things couldn't get any worse, his house started spinning.

Oscar stopped in the middle of the hallway, closing his eyes and hoping that the dizzy spell would pass. He was more careful the rest of the way to the bathroom, and tried not to look at his reflection when he arrived.

No use, he had to know how awful he looked. And boy did he look like death.

Oscar shook his head and pulled he mirror away to get to his Tylenol. He kept it for headaches and it would definitely help with his headache, in addition to everything else that seemed to be wrong with him.

Another wave of dizziness came on fast and suddenly, and Oscar found himself gripping the counter just to stay upright. He was in a hurry to do what he needed to do and get back to bed before he wasn't able to.

Oscar filled a cup with water, grabbed the whole bottle of Tylenol, and took it with him. He'd feel much safer doing everything once he was already in bed.

Unfortunately, he never made it there.

\-----

Cliff didn't usually expect anyone to be waiting for him to climb through the bathroom window, but there was Sylvia looking anxious as ever. He knew that look, it was the "Oscar Did Something Dumb and Now Teen Wolf Was Expected to Do Something About It" look.

"Clifford, thank goodness!"

"What? Did Oscar run off again?" He God damn better not have.

She didn't answer, instead just leading him out to the hallway where Oscar lay passed out on the floor. A spilled cup of water and unopened medicine bottle were thrown around him.

"I tried to wake him, but I can't touch-"

Clifford swore under his breath as he knelt next to his friend. He had to fix this before Sylvia got too worried. He didn't waste any time before smacking Oscar in the face. Maybe several times. Just to get him conscious, of course.

"Dude, wake up!"

Oscar groaned, although Clifford might've been more inclined to call it a _whimper_. His eyes slowly opened, and Oscar's first attempt to speak turned into a coughing fit instead.

"Wha-" More coughing.

"Gross, man. C'mon."

Cliff helped him sit up, realizing how warm he was. He hoped this wasn't the same thing Oscar had when he met that hot chick he talked about. Cliff didn't answer any questions his sick friend likely had. His first priority was to get Oscar to bed before he passed out again.

Sylvia followed, offering some explanation to them both. Cliff couldn't even imagine watching someone pass out right in front of him and not be able to do anything about it. He was glad he decided to show up today at all.

Oscar still looked out of it as he got into bed, chuckling tiredly when Clifford told him he wasn't about to tuck him in.

"Thanks. Didn't know I was that bad off."

"Yeah, well you scared Sylvia half to death- shit. Sorry."

Sylvia laughed. "It's okay."

Cliff wasn't sure what to do now. Should he leave? He didn't usually care whether Oscar wanted him to be there or not, but now he felt like he should give him some space. Or stay and make sure he didn't die?

He looked over to see what Oscar wanted him to do, and found his friend fast asleep.

He should clean the water in the hall. That's what he should do.

\-----

Oscar needed rest - a lot of it, considering the night that he had - and Sylvia wanted company. So Cliff stayed. He suggested they watch TV, but Sylvia seemed less enthused about the idea and suggested a game of cards instead. Cliff was almost winning (at least he liked to think so) when he and Sylvia heard footsteps upstairs.

"He must be awake!" she said.

They considered going up to see how he was doing, but they agreed it might be better to wait and listen for him to go back to bed. He could just be getting up to take a piss or something, Cliff decided. No reason to bother him.

The loud _THUMP_ proved otherwise.

Clifford and Sylvia rushed to the staircase and found Oscar on the landing, having fallen flat on his ass and looking somewhat out of it.

"Dude."

"Ow," was the only response Oscar seemed to have.

Cliff scoffed in disbelief and dragged Oscar the rest of the way down the stairs. Even with Oscar making an effort to walk, it wasn't an easy task. Who knew the guy could be so heavy?

"Couch?"

Oscar gave a halfhearted nod. "Couch."

Clifford wasted no time shoving his friend onto the cushions.

Oscar pulled the collar of his hoodie over his mouth to muffle a harsh-sounding cough. He cleared his throat and sat up, running a tired hand down his face. "Was gonna get some water."

"I've got it. If I have to pick you up off the floor one more time..."

When Clifford returned with a glass of water, Oscar was sniffling, and he had a feeling it wasn't from illness.

"Thanks, Cliff. Sylvia," Oscar mumbled, rubbing at his head. "Don't know what I'd do without you guys." He swiped at his eyes, sniffling one more time.

Cliff wasn't prepared for this kind of shit.

Sylvia smiled. "Oh, Oscar… I don't know what we'd do without you, either." She perched herself on the arm of the sofa, looking at him in a way that had Clifford questioning whether he was a third wheel at that particular moment.

Naw, she just cared about him.

Clifford pressed the water into Oscar's hand, urging him to drink and maybe chill out a little bit. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Oscar this vulnerable. Sure, he's seen the guy get beat up a couple thousand times by something weird and otherworldly, but emotional vulnerability was a totally different thing. He was at a total loss of what to do.

Oscar was arguably his closest friend - the person who knew the most about him - and Clifford realized he didn't know that much about Oscar in return. Maybe this was what he was like when he wasn't… avoiding things all the time. Evading personal questions and only offering dumb fragments of his past might have been nice for Oscar, but it left everyone else wondering what the _heck_ was with him sometimes.

Oh well.

Cliff returned the next day to a slightly less pale Oscar, wrapped in a blanket and slowly sipping at the soup left over from the can Clifford heated up the night before.

He glanced at Cliff and chuckled. "Front door, huh? Maybe you're the one who's feverish."

"Shut up." Honestly, he just didn't want to risk waking Oscar if he was still asleep upstairs. The front door seemed like the best way to sneak in for once. "Good to see you haven't died yet."

Oscar started to cough, loud and harsh and painful, and Clifford couldn't help but wince as his friend struggled to get control over his lungs again. Finally, it ended, and Oscar was left gulping down half a glass of water to keep it _ended_.

"Yet," he repeated.

"I definitely feel more alive than yesterday," Oscar said, clearing his throat. He set the soup on the coffee table, not looking very hungry anymore. "Uh, so Cliff…"

"…Yes?" This sounded like one of those serious conversations Clifford didn't want to be a part of.

"About yesterday, sorry for getting all…"

Cliff smirked. "Emotional?"

Oscar winced at the word.

"I wasn’t feeling myself."

"Yeah, obviously. Look man, you were really out of it yesterday and you were probably all delirious or something, so whatever-"

"I meant it."

"…What?"

Oscar sighed, eyes glued to the ground. "I mean, you're right. I _was_ pretty out of it, but I figure, if I already said it, I might as well let you know-"

Oh God. Yep, here was the serious conversation. Cliff hated it. "You _really_ don’t have to."

Oscar looked at him, and then back to the ground, like he was contemplating it. Still, he continued.

"I thought I was going to be alone when I came to Podunk. I would have never thought that my best friends would be… well, a ghost and a werewolf."

"Hey, can we not do this?"

Oscar chuckled but it just made him cough instead. "I'm trying to say that I appreciate you as a friend! That's all!"

"Well quit it!"

"Never. I appreciate you, Clifford!" Even with a hoarse voice, he tried to sound like he was making a smug point.

"Fine, I appreciate you too!" Crap. Took the bait.

There was that look. Oscar's victorious I-Got-Through-to-Cliff look, with a dumb grin on his face

"Shut up. I'm leaving!" He yelled, walking out the same door he just came through.

"Bye, _friend!_ "

Clifford couldn’t even try to deny it. He was thankful for his friends, too. The ghost and the weird four-eyed writer guy. What a group they were.

He did leave, and returned with more soup an hour later. 


End file.
